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“Don’t you be mocking that, boy. It’s hard-earned wisdom, I can tell you that.” She’s grinning, though, even as she scolds me.
“Well. What else has your hard-earned wisdom picked up on?”
“You’re worried. Which means all is not peachy in paradise. So what happened? Did you say something asinine, piss the poor girl off?”
I shake my head. Then I pause. I’m not entirely sure I didn’t, to be honest. “I don’t know. Things were going great, and then she suddenly just… shut me out.”
Mrs. Jenkins purses her lips. “Did you ask her what was the matter?”
“Of course. Multiple times.” I run a hand through my hair. “I even tried to stop her before she ran away up to her…” I hesitate. I was about to say room. But then it would become pretty obvious who it was I was chasing. After all, Sinclair is the only girl in this resort under the age of 50. “Before she ran away,” I repeat lamely. “But she wouldn’t tell me what upset her. I don’t know if I did anything, or if it was something I said…”
“In my experience, a little part of you always knows what it was you did to upset somebody, even if you don’t want to admit it.” Mrs. Jenkins watched him shrewdly. “So, if you really don’t think you did anything that could be perceived as untoward, then I’d wager her upset has less to do with you and more to do with something she’s dealing with.”
That sounded right. Especially given her reaction to the scar. I grimace. “But how am I supposed to help her deal with it if she won’t tell me what it is?”
Mrs. Jenkins wags a finger at me. “There are some problems that can’t be helped. All you can do is be there for the person while they handle it on their own.”
“And if she doesn’t want me to even just be there for her through it?” I counter.
“She will.” Mrs. Jenkins studies me. “When she’s ready to, she’ll be the one to come to you. And if it’s really love, she won’t wait too long.”
“Love?” My eyebrows shoot upward. We’ve barely met. It’s been barely a day.
“Well, I don’t know about from her side of it. But watching you?” Mrs. Jenkins chuckles. “That’s the word I’d use. Never seen you look this distraught in all the time I’ve known you, Ankor. Normally you keep every emotion close to your chest. Never give any hint of what’s beneath. I assume if I can see this much of a blatant sign written on your face, there’s a volcano lurking under the surface now.”
I groan and run a hand through my hair, gripping it tightly with my fist.
Maybe Sinclair is right. It’s better this way, for both of us, she said, about staying away from one another. Maybe we should. I wasn’t looking for love.
“What is it?”
I startle. I’d forgotten Mrs. Jenkins was there for a moment. Lost in the memory of the pain on Sinclair’s face when she asked me to stay away from her. “I was just thinking maybe this is more than I bargained for,” I say. “I didn’t come here looking to fall in love.”
“You rarely find it when you’re looking for it,” she counters.
“I’m better off without it.” I shake my head. I expect her to agree, or to offer some sage platitude about how love always breaks our hearts but it’s worth pursuing anyway. When I look up, though, I find her watching me closely again.
“What on earth makes you think that?” she asks, as if I’ve just told her I really like swimming with great white sharks.
I shrug. “My last relationship didn’t go too well. Or the one before that. Or the one before that…”
“Did you love them?”
“I thought I did.” I shake my head. “But those women were only in it for the money. That’s all they saw in me.”
“Ah yes, all that money a swimming teacher makes.” Mrs. Jenkins’s eyes sparkle. I open my mouth to explain, to make something up, but she holds up a hand, stopping me. “Please, Ankor. We’ve all seen that car you speed around the island with. Not to mention the designer sunglasses, shoes worth more than half my wardrobe. Your past is your own business, none of mine. But if you think I’m shocked that you aren’t just some pool boy…”
I smirk. “Thank you for not ratting me out, then.”
“Of course. So. Your exes were all after you for your money. And you’re worried Sinclair will be the same, is that it?”
I start again, because I never mentioned Sinclair’s name. But she rolls her eyes this time, cackling.
“As if you thought we didn’t notice you feeling one another up half our last lesson, either.” Mrs. Jenkins clucks her tongue. “She’s a beauty, I’ll grant you that. Quiet, a little shy, but she seems sweet. A good girl.”
